


The Pied Piper Book of Practical Cats

by anactoriatalksback



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: But also Richard makes two successful experiments with touch, M/M, Richard's arch-nemesis is a cat, Self-Indulgent, So yay Richard right?, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: Jared has a selfish, demanding, psychotically jealous new friend.Richard doesn't like the competition.





	The Pied Piper Book of Practical Cats

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with the lovely @crucialandinert and @assholevacuum's discussion about what a Jared pet might look like. Which I piggybacked off. I'm so very very sorry. Rest assured that if you like anything in this story, that's something crucialandinert and assholevacuum came up with. Anything else is my felonious ten-thumbed self.

‘Look at you, you beautiful thing.’

Richard freezes. It’s Jared’s voice outside the door, and it’s…Richard’s never heard this tone. It isn’t the coaxing lilt of Jared telling him he’s the belle of the ball, or even his maternal beam when he’s saying he’s just proud of Richard. This is… this tender, intimate murmur.

‘My sweet, sweet baby.’

Jared’s _enraptured_ by whoever he’s saying this to. And _baby_?

Not even _one_ seafaring/warmaking/weirdly mediaeval metaphor? Nothing even _mildly_ bloodcurdling? What the _fuck_ , Jared.

 _Clear your throat_ , Richard tells himself. _Announce your presence._

Who is this, anyway? Who is this… _floozy_ ….he’s using that bone-melting dark-chocolate whisper with? This floozy that he’s actually brought to the Hacker Hostel, like, what. He doesn’t live here anymore, so like. Is this. Is meet-the-colleagues like a relationship stage? Which…it could be, right? Jared doesn’t have a family, maybe his old lady friends and Pied Piper are the equivalent of his parents? Which…Richard has complicated feelings about that.

But it makes sense in a way. And anyway, they spend so much time together, they work such crazy hours, maybe she’s gotten, like, jealous of the time they spend together, like who are these people, she (or maybe he, Richard still isn’t sure about Jared’s deal) is probably, like, _insanely_ demanding and takes Jared for granted and Jared would just, like, roll over and kvell with gratitude like he does any time anyone notices he’s alive and doesn’t immediately eat his lunch. Jared probably builds this person up. Sky-high. And she (or he) takes it as their due.

Yeah, that sounds like her. Him. Whatever. (S)he’s the fucking _worst_.

So anyway, this _harpy_ probably wants to meet this Richard Hendricks who takes so much of Jared’s time.

Yes, Richard specifically.

What has Jared told this bitch about Richard?

If it’s, like, _ten per cent_ of the shit Jared says _to Richard’s face_ , this…needy little slut….is probably out of their mind with rage and jealousy, and Richard takes a little time to preen.

Unless Jared _hasn’t_ said anything about Richard.

Maybe he hasn’t.

Surely he has, if it’s serious enough for the meet-the-colleagues stage of the relationship.

Oh God, maybe this is _serious_.

 _Give them some privacy_ , he tells himself. _Better yet, get the fuck away from the door_.

 _….Fucking….ugh, sure, or do that_ , he sighs inwardly as he yanks the door open to confront Jared and his…

Cat.

Kitten, really.

‘Richard!’ Jared’s eyes light up. ‘Meet Ms Muffins!’

The tiny black creature in Jared’s arms opens one yellow eye and fixes Richard with an unblinking stare of such concentrated malevolence that he takes an involuntary step back.

Richard lets Jared through. Ms Muffins squirms around in Jared’s arms and gives Richard a swift, efficient claw up his arm. Richard’s first thought is ‘….I fucking _knew_ it.’

He doesn’t make a sound.

 _Muffins_? He thinks, as a blissfully-unaware Jared nuzzles her. _Try Sauron_.

* * *

 

Turns out Ms Muffins is a rescue whom Jared is bringing in to work because she gets anxious when he leaves her. She curls up in his lap and purrs when he rubs her belly and Jared is just…he is fucking _besotted_ with her. He takes regular breaks to bury his face in her fur, and coo over how beautiful and perfect and sweet she is in that unsettling insinuating lilt that makes Richard chew his lip, and he feeds her treats and she licks food off Jared’s long long fingers and when he’s completely absorbed by her it takes upwards of fifteen entire seconds for him to respond to Richard calling his name and and and Richard can’t _stand_ it. 

It also doesn’t help that for some reason best known to herself, she really. Fucking. Hates. Richard. She’s canny about it, though. When Jared’s back is turned – and only when she’s sure he can’t see -  she manages to swipe at whatever part of Richard she can reach. Within a few hours, Richard’s ankle is covered in an intricate lattice of scratches.

And Richard doesn’t know what it says about him that he’s made this fucked-up little tacit pact with her: she doesn’t want Jared to know what she’s doing to Richard, and Richard’s not going to look like the crybaby shitheel who won’t let Jared care for an abused kitten with abandonment issues.

‘She’s just…’ he hisses to Dinesh and Gilfoyle when Jared takes her out of the room. ‘Jesus, she’s fucking _evil_.’

Dinesh and Gilfoyle look at Richard, who jerks his head in the general direction of the departed kitten. ‘Her. Ms Muffins. She fucking has it in for me, did you see?’

Dinesh and Gilfoyle continue to stare at Richard.

‘She _hisses_ at me.’

Dinesh and Gilfoyle continue to stare.

‘And, look, I swear to God, every time, it sounds like _Rich-ard_.’

Dinesh and Gilfoyle continue to stare.

‘It _does_. How the fuck are you not hearing it?’

Dinesh clears his throat. ‘Just so we’re clear’, he says, ‘your new arch-nemesis is a kitten called Ms Muffins?’

‘She isn’t just…’ Richard shows them his ankle.

Dinesh rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, did the freaked-out baby cat make the big man afwaid? Is the big man a scaredy-cat?’

‘Fucking…’ Richard leans forward, ‘she does it when she knows you guys can’t see. She’s fucking…diabolical.’

‘Jesus’, mutters Dinesh.

‘She is! She’s, she’s selfish, and needy, and demanding, and fucking…Jared just…he bends over backwards for her and he fucking, did you hear him around her? It’s…it’s gross!’

‘It _is_ gross’, says Gilfoyle, ‘…when Jared bends over backwards for a selfish needy infant.’

‘Super gross’, agrees Dinesh.

‘Stomach-churning.’

‘It’s been gross for _years_.’

‘Seriously.’

‘Now that he’s got the kitten, though….’

‘Maybe the infant can move the fuck on?’

Richard scowls at the pair, and types furiously.

* * *

 

Gilfoyle, to Richard’s complete lack of surprise, gets along fine with Ms Muffins.

That is to say, he cocks a supercilious eyebrow at her and conspicuously ignores her when he isn’t calling her ‘OJ’s butch girlfriend’.

Jared tells Gilfoyle to keep an eye on her anyway. Gilfoyle refuses point-blank, with a ‘And if you weren’t a hapless organic vegan gluten-free corporate stooge, you’d know that those Martha Stewart Jizzcake treats you’re feeding her lack about six essential amino acids. Use these’ (showing Jared his phone) ‘instead. Not that I care.’

Jared thanks Gilfoyle effusively. Gilfoyle shrugs. Ms Muffins – when she isn’t curled up purring on Jared’s lap or stealthily slashing at Richard’s wrists or ankles – makes her way over to Gilfoyle’s side. Every time Richard sneaks a look – which is once every ten seconds, and not just because he’s paranoid about her claws – she seems to be juuuust a little bit closer to Gilfoyle’s chair. Nothing overt, you understand. Just…Gilfoyle happens to be typing, and Ms Muffins happens to be lounging on the arm of his chair, and Gilfoyle happens to not need the armrest for the rest of the day. Just a completely random string of coincidences.

Dinesh notices too. At first he turned up his nose at Jared’s scrawny feline companion, but there’s just something about the sight of Ms Muffins’ paw on the table riiiight next to Gilfoyle’s hand – Gilfoyle who doesn’t seem to notice or mind – that drives. Him. Up. The _wall_.

‘Here, kitty!’

Ms Muffins ignores Dinesh.

‘Kitty!’

Ms Muffins seems completely engrossed by Gilfoyle’s code.

Dinesh reaches for Jared’s bag. ‘Kitty, I have a treat for you!’

Ms Muffins continues to ignore Dinesh, pointedly.

‘Dinesh, she’s a little shy with strangers’, says Jared apologetically.

‘Racist fucking cat’, mutters Dinesh.

‘Oh, Dinesh’, says Jared, torn between reproach and vague parental mortification, ‘I’m sure she isn’t…although we did rescue her from that white supremacist survivalist cult and she’s very intelligent, so who knows what she’s absorbed, oh dear…’

‘Muff isn’t racist’, says Gilfoyle, turning to look at Dinesh. ‘Well, I mean, she _may_ be, but you know that’s not why she’s ignoring you, Dinesh. You should thank her.’

‘For-?’

‘For demonstrating a lesson you should already have learned.’ Gilfoyle turns back to his screen. ‘Pussy’s repulsed by desperation.’

‘Gilfoyle’, murmurs Jared, ‘that’s offensive, and I don’t think Ms Muffins should really…’

‘Leave Muff here’, says Gilfoyle, ‘I like watching Dinesh fail with females of multiple species.’

‘At least she doesn’t fucking hate me like she does Richard!’

There’s a silence. Jared turns wide eyes to Richard. ‘Oh, Richard, I’m sure…’

‘Show him your ankle’, says Dinesh. ‘Show him.’

‘Your – your ankle?’

Ah, for fuck’s sake.

Richard sighs and shows Jared his ankle. There’s a sharp indrawn breath.

‘Oh, Richard, I’m so – oh Ms Muffins, how could you?’

‘It’s fine’, says Richard hurriedly, he will not give her the satisfaction, ‘it’s not a big deal, can we just - ?’

But no, they can’t just - . Jared insists on taking Richard to the bathroom and fishing out swabs and bandages for the scratches.

‘Oh, Richard, I’m so, so sorry, she gets a little…anxious….around strangers, and she must have sensed you’re the alpha, and who knows what associations she has with her previous owners, oh the material they recovered, Richard, but I’m so, oh and Richard’, Jared’s hand flies to his chest, ‘you bore it so patiently, how can I ever - ?’

And Richard’s head is in such a whirl about being called an alpha and patient in the space of ten fucking seconds that he’s forgotten he even _has_ an ankle, let alone one that Jared’s large, soft, capable hands are clasping tenderly.

Which. _Oh_.

‘It’, says Richard, staring at Jared’s hand, ‘yeah. It’s. Sure.’

And when Jared stares at him, he coughs and says ‘yeah. Er. Checks out. Um.’

‘But Richard’, says Jared, ‘I – I won’t bring her again. I shouldn’t have presumed, and I’m so sorry, but her previous owners – oh, Richard, they’d leave her behind for _days_ on end when they were vandalising Taco Bells, and then they’d bring her back burritos, she has trauma reactions to refried beans, Richard, just the smell and she faints, it’s so - ’

‘It’s’ says Richard, hurriedly, ‘I – don’t. You can.’ he swallows, ‘keep. Bringing her. It’s.’

And his savaged ankle twinges in indignation and he’s cursing himself when he glances at Jared, and his eyes are welling up and he’s smiling so hard and he’s all pink and his hands are so nice and, and, and…

‘Thank you, Richard.’

Worth it.

‘Sure.’

‘But I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again, Richard.’

Richard thinks of that one yellow eye, and has his private doubts. He shrugs. Tries not to squirm under the delicate touch of Jared checking on his ankle. Long, elegant fingers, tracing spider-like, gossamer-light, careful and sweet…

Jared’s murmuring something, and Richard bends to hear: ‘……….the satisfaction of snatching defenceless creatures away from the pitiless maw of a loutish world.’

Richard swallows. ‘Like…you did with me – us! Pied Piper, I mean.’

Jared looks up, startled. ‘Richard, no! Like _you_ did with _me_.’

Richard stares back at Jared.

I mean, trust Jared to look at a history of being, like, exploited when he isn’t being forgotten, and seeing it as some kind of triumphant rescue.

Which, fuck. What if that’s true?

Like, in comparison?

Richard swallows. ‘Thank you, Jared.’

Jared blinks. ‘No, Richard, it was – I’m so sorry, it was my fault, your poor ankle, oh’ and his head bends, and for one dizzying second Richard thinks he might press a kiss to the scratches, and Richard thinks he’ll pass out at just the thought, I mean, and oh –

And then there’s an insistent mew outside.

Jared’s head snaps around, and his hand slips away.

Fucking cockblocking Sauron-eyed basilisk-glaring motherfucking cat.

Wait.

 _Cockblocking_?

What…did Richard…think was going to…

What did Richard expect to…

What did Richard _want_ to…

What was Richard going to do to…

Richard slams the door after Jared and crouches over the toilet for a long, long time until his stomach stops heaving.

* * *

 

Richard makes it through the day without adding to his war wounds, by the simple expedient of working from his bedroom.

He has to come out to take a leak, though, and when he does he steps on Ms Muffins’ tail.

She lets out a wail so heartrending that Richard can’t blame Jared and Dinesh for their wide-eyed reproach, like, he’s nearly handing _himself_ over to the cops.

 _Well-played, Ms Muffins_ , he thinks, as Jared bears her away, _well-played_.

After that little _contretemps_ , Richard feels like every step he takes is in a minefield made of sore teeth and razorblades. He glares at the floor, to the left, right, in front and behind, for like five minutes before he inches a toe forward.

So by the time he reaches the kitchen for a drink, he is shaking with nerves and exhaustion, and altogether in no mood for Ms Muffins, lounging on the counter.

She hisses at Richard. And she’s fully committing to the sound, it’s a sibilant, full-bodied ‘ _HhkkkhhhhhhRiiiichardkkkhhhhhhhh_ ’ that would make a king cobra sick with envy.

And Richard thinks of himself, hiding out in his bedroom until he or Ms Muffins dies.

And he thinks of a small black kitten, starving and terrified, waiting for the people she depends on to return.

And he thinks of Jared, with his big blue eyes and his earnest belief that Richard rescued him.

And: ‘Look’, he snaps, but quietly, ‘you’re not…you’re not the only one who…other people…care…about. Him. All right?’

And he takes a deep breath and marches himself and his laptop back to the hall.

There’s a pause – he swears a _baffled_ -sounding pause – and then Ms Muffins stalks back into the hall.

She makes her way to Gilfoyle, but on the way to his chair she passes Richard’s. And very carefully, very deliberately, she rubs, once, against Richard’s leg.

There’s a stunned silence, followed by Gilfoyle saying ‘well, at least she still thinks Dinesh is a tryhard loser whose code makes the Nazarene shit blood.’

‘Fuck you, Gilfoyle.’

* * *

 

It’s getting late. Dinesh and Gilfoyle have knocked off for the day, Jared’s on the phone, and it’s just Richard in the hall.

He feels a movement by his heels and before he knows what’s happening there are claws skittering lightly over his knees and Ms Muffins has deposited herself in his lap.

‘Wh - ’

Ms Muffins turns to look at him over her shoulder. _Don’t read too much into this_ , her expression says very plainly. _You’ll just… have to do for now_.

And she lies, elegantly, across Richard’s knees.

Richard stares at her. She stares back with an expression of clenched patience he’s seen on the face of every single woman he’s ever gone out with.

‘Er- should I….’

Which….he has _also_ said in response to that expression to every single woman he’s ever gone out with, come to think of it.

And his hand reaches, tentatively, for Ms Muffins’ belly.

He rubs gingerly, and Ms Muffins’ eyes begin to droop close.

After a while, there’s a genteel purr.

It’s….

Okay, it’s....not just the relief that he guessed right, and hasn’t come away with a face looking like a map of inland waterways or whatever, but it’s also….

Richard feels…pleased?

Proud?

Kind of…glowing and warm and still and peaceful and content?

There’s a quiet gasp behind him. Jared’s staring at Ms Muffins and Richard and he’s smiling so hard it looks like the top half of his face might just slide off.

He moves softly, crouching down next to Richard and watching his hand rubbing circles on Ms Muffins’ tummy.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, Richard settling into a rhythm.

‘It’s like a gift’, says Jared, quietly.

Richard turns to look at him. ‘Gift?’

Jared smiles, still watching Richard’s hand. ‘When something so terrified and fierce and wounded…when it trusts you, when it lets itself…rest, and seek, and need. Need _you_. It’s…’

Richard nods, slowly. Thinks of Jared. Of his long body trying to fold in around Richard. Of Richard’s own hand, flutteringly repulsing him. Of Jared offering…warmth, affection, solidarity. Offering, and asking. Asking but almost never taking. Asking with so many disclaimers, and so many outs and escape clauses and warnings that there’s ample time for Richard to panic and clamber inside his own head and squirm and wriggle.

Jared’s voice breaks in. ‘Richard? If you don’t need me for the rest of the evening, may I head home?’

Richard nods. Jared reaches for Ms Muffins, and Richard freezes as their hands brush.

‘Oh dear, Richard, I’m so sorry, I should have waited.’

Jared unfurls himself, Ms Muffins in his arms, and Richard rises as well. Watches Jared tuck Ms Muffins into her basket.

‘Jared?’

Jared turns with an inquiring expression.

‘I – hug?’

Jared looks puzzled. Richard swallows. ‘I. Can I. Hug you?’

Jared’s eyes widen. ‘I – Richard, is there something – do you need…comfort, or…what’s the matter?’

Richard’s shaking his head. ‘No, no, I…this is stupid, it’s…don’t…there’s nothing, I…’

And then there’s a gentle hand on his arm, and Jared’s eyes are shining. ‘I’d be honoured.’

He stands very still as Richard approaches him. Richard coughs. ‘I – could you…raise your. Arms?’

‘Of course.’

And he does, just away and ahead of him like Nosferatu At Band Camp or something, and Richard slowly, very slowly, puts his arms around him. Lets his head rest on Jared’s chest. Lets himself relax into Jared’s bony frame. Feels Jared’s shaking breath in and out.

Hears him say ‘Richard? May I….hug you back?’

Doesn’t speak. Can’t speak. Nods instead.

Lets his eyes close as Jared’s thin arms come up, hesitantly, around him.

 _Safe_ , he thinks.

 _Soft_ , he thinks.

 _Warm_ , he thinks.

And, as one hand slides up his back to thread itself in his hair, _ahhhhhh_.

Gentle fingers, rubbing circles in his scalp.

Richard would purr if he could.

Instead, he rubs his nose against Jared’s chest. Feels Jared’s heart speed up under his ear. Squirms a little closer. Smiles as he feels Jared’s heart flutter.

Wonders what it would be like, to…lift his face up. Ask for a kiss. Feel those soft full lips against his own.

Thinks that he’s made two experiments with touch today, and they’ve succeeded beyond his wildest fucking expectations, and he’d better not jinx it.

That he wants to carry this…this delicate tremulous golden feeling where all things seem possible. For at least one night, one night where it feels like if he did ask for a kiss, he might get it.

It would be nice, he thinks, to be able to purr.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr handle is itsevidentvery, if you'd like to come yell with me there.


End file.
